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I could feel our plane descending on its approach to Providence. I'd been watching the arrival time on the screen, counting from one to sixty to help take my mind off the change in pressure squeezing my ears. I was all out of chewing gum, slightly in pain, and flat-out exhausted.

A huge part of me, though, felt relieved. Meeting Joe and his family, being able to reconcile that part of my life, was emotionally taxing but very necessary.

I departed Lake Tahoe hoping that my disrupted soul could finally find peace.

Joe had shown me a picture of Kelcie, and after the shock wore off at how much I really did look like my birth mother, he told me I could keep it. I squeezed my carry-on bag, hugging the picture that I'd placed inside my wallet. Kelcie Tremont was two months away from her eighteenth birthday when she died on that icy winter night.

The last thing she did before leaving this earth was tend to my needs, even though it was obvious from this meeting that Joe had been harboring the guilt since he was the one that suggested taking me out in the car. I held his hand for a long time while he and I had a private moment to talk about forgiveness.

Lisa reached over the armrest and patted my leg, rubbing her palm over my denim-clad thigh. I met her gaze, understanding her thoughtful look. Right after that, I had a revelation. Somewhere along the line, Lisa and I had developed the ability to say a hundred words to each other with just one look. I could read her just as easily as she could read me, and what she wanted to know right now was what I was dwelling on.

"I have to talk to Fred," I answered. With all of the other revelations we'd been dealing with over the last three days, speaking with Fred had been put on hold.

Lisa nodded but I could tell she was concerned. I knew she had a lot to do; the third Seaside movie was scheduled to start filming in three weeks and she'd be on location in New Orleans for three and a half months. "We'll talk to him together. I've got to tell you, Jennie, I'm not happy about Tammy having an attitude. You've allowed her to run her business out of that kitchen for pennies. Fred's got an income now because of you, and I know you've been friends with him for a long time, but if she wants to keep playing bitchy bride, she can do it on someone else's dime."

My mouth popped open to speak, only to be shut by her continuing with her small rant.

"I've got no tolerance for nonsense anymore. And if planning a wedding makes a girl that crazy, we're keeping ours small and simple."

Is that so? "No opinionated aunts then, huh?"

She laughed. "Definitely not."

I wanted to say "Fred's my friend and I own the bar," but that reminded me of how Mingyu used to draw lines between what was mine and what was his, and that was not the way I wanted my relationship with Lisa to be. Lisa was entitled to give me her opinion and I knew she was protecting me the only way she knew how. After so many years of having her own experiences dealing with users and takers, she was leery of everyone.

By the time we landed and drove back to my apartment, I was wiped out and ready for bed. The last thing I needed to see were more boxes blocking my hallway.

"What the hell's all this?" Lisa groaned.

Mike opened up one box while Lisa opened another. "Looks like more fan mail," Mike muttered.

Lisa shoved the box flaps back together and grabbed her bags.

I didn't need sharp hearing to pick up on Lisa telling Mike that she wanted to toss it all before I saw any more threat letters or hate mail. Surely with the volume sitting in boxes, there had to be a few unkind letters in the mix.

Lisa's phone chimed. She'd been avoiding someone and I was pretty sure I knew who that was. "You can't keep ignoring him."

She tossed her suitcase on the bed. "Yes, I can."

"He's your manager."

Lisa groaned. "He had no right doing what he did."

"Then tell him that."

"I'm still too mad not to fire him."

I shrugged. "Then fire him."

She toed her sneakers off. "I can't."

"You're ready to kick Tammy and her business out of the kitchen downstairs but your manager took it upon himself to order a prenuptial agreement and you don't think that requires a bitch-slap?"

Her hands rested on her hips while she stared at me. "You want me to fire him."

I made a pile of dirty laundry, noticing the similarities between the task at hand and this conversation.

"Is that a question or a statement?" I was hoping we weren't headed for an impasse.

Lisa shrugged. "Both."

Drat.

"He's not my manager. I don't have to deal with him as much as you do so it's not my call to make."

Lisa set her bag on the bed. "You don't like him."

I met her gaze. "Another question or a statement?"

"Statement."

I resumed sorting laundry. "No, I don't like him, but you already know this. He's been underhanded too many times, which makes him untrustworthy in my book. He has a difference of opinion with you of how you should lead your life, what roles you should consider pursuing, and he's made it blatantly clear that he views me as an intrusion. Then again, I know nothing about hiring a talent manager. I do know that you have to have a certain level of trust in the people you employ. So the question goes back to you. Do you trust him?"

She took a deep breath, her shoulders falling in disappointment. I knew this had to be weighing heavily on her mind for awhile and I was glad she was finally addressing it. "I used to."

Being diplomatic and not wanting her decision to be swayed by my opinion, I asked, "And why don't you anymore?"

"Len Bainbridge is my lawyer. David had no right speaking to him on my behalf about a prenuptial agreement, regardless of inquiries for photo exclusives."

I couldn't agree more. I was glad she drew that conclusion on her own.

The next day I faced another possible impasse.

"Your friend Amy posted about her being at your wedding on Twitter, Tammy." I tried to be sympathetic and compassionate but direct and to the point as well. I knew she wasn't the one who leaked the information, but she'd have to deal with the aftermath.

Big, brown eyes that just weren't getting it gazed blankly back across the table at me. "So?"

Either I wasn't explaining myself properly or she was missing the point. I folded my fingers together, trying to keep calm. "So, what that means is on the day you two get married, there is a high probability that your church will be surrounded by a swarm of photographers, press, and fans. Most of the gossip sites have already posted that our wedding date has been leaked, Tammy. They don't care if it's your wedding or not. They see a tweet about Lisa and a confirmed wedding and the news channels explode with it. CV magazine's website even has a fake wedding invitation posted with the date."

Fred groaned and sat back in his chair, turning an angry glare on his fiancée. I hated seeing them like this, torn up about things they had no control over.

I could see the light dawning on her. It also became quite obvious to me that when Lisa and I did get married, keeping the date and the location secret would be the top priority.

"So now what?" Fred asked.

Lisa drew in an audible breath. "You know I want to be there for you, man, but the shit that surrounds me can get out of control. Your wedding date was posted in one of the replies to the original Twitter post. It spread from there."

Fred turned and glowered at Tammy. "You fucked up."

Her face fell. So did my heart. "Fred, it's not her fault."

Tammy was on the verge of tears. "I didn't do this!"

I clutched his arm, hoping to get his attention before this blew up, but it made no difference. His other fist hit the table. "No? Then who did?"

Tammy appeared indignant, holding it in. "I don't know why you're so mad at me."

Lisa cautioned them both. "Listen. What's done is done. I'm just worried about your day being ruined because of this, that's all. Jennie and I are huge media targets right now."

Tammy swiped a tear away. "Ruined? Like how? Do I have to cancel everything now?"

I could see the panic welling up in her. "No, sweetie, you don't. It's your wedding day—it's your day to shine. We just don't want to do anything to detract from that."

Fred was obviously fuming. "Amy couldn't keep her damn mouth shut, could she? I warned you about her, time and time again, and now look what she's done. I do not want that bitch in our wedding."

Tammy fell back and cowered in her chair. "She's my maid of honor, Fred. You wanted Gary as your best man."

"Yeah, well I also didn't know that he was nailing your friend behind Hyunji's back. Not only is she a loud-mouthed whore, she's also a home-wrecker. I don't want you hanging around her anymore. She's no longer welcome in my house."

Tammy stood up abruptly; her chair scraped the floor. If looks could kill, he was a dead man. "I can't believe you just said that."

"What? That your girlfriend is a whore or that's she's a home-wrecker?"

"Go to hell," she growled.

Fred relaxed back into his chair. "Babe, sometimes I feel as though I'm already there."

Tammy let out a frustrated groan, chucked her middle finger at Fred, then stormed out of the pub and back into the kitchen.

Lisa was scratching the back of her head, appearing just as dumbfounded about the last ten minutes as I was. "Dude, I'm sorry. We never meant to cause problems for you."

Fred waved his hand, casting that off, and then rubbed his face. "It's not your problem, Lisa. This wedding is creating so much stress, she's driving me crazy." He glanced back and forth and then held his gaze on me. "I didn't know Gary was messing with that girl. I swear. Amy was over at our place one time when Gary came over. They sort of hit it off right away, but I didn't think anything of it. I just thought they were being friendly. I told Tammy to tell Amy to back off because Gary was married but apparently that message never made it through."

I believed him. Through all these years, Fred had never lied to me. He told me everything straight up, whether good news or bad.

"What are we going to do?" I asked him.

Fred shrugged. "I just banned my best man's date, Hyunji and Tammy aren't speaking, the paparazzi are going to hound you if you show up, and I just pissed off my bride. I don't know. I honestly don't know."

--

Four days later, Lisa caught a flight out to L.A. to start rehearsals for the third Seaside film while I stayed in Rhode Island. Fred had an appointment at the physical therapist, so Hyunji and I were back behind the bar together, mixing drinks and tapping beer, just like old times.

I saw Tammy walk out of the kitchen, her eyes totally focused on the paper in her hand. "Jennie, I have the first draft of the lunch menu." She stopped abruptly when she almost plowed into Hyunji.

Like two magnets repelling each other, I watched as they quickly sidestepped, avoiding even the smallest of acknowledgments. Hyunji turned her back, swiftly moving to the opposite end of the bar.

Tammy's lips curled down into a frown.

She still held the paper in her hand, but her attention was focused on Hyunji's cold rejection. I couldn't say I blamed Hyunji; after all, betraying a friend is enough to get you permanently kicked out of the sisterhood. But for the sake of my own sanity, I had to remain neutral, even though I knew my relationship with Tammy was forever altered as well.

"Is she ever going to talk to me?" I could see the hurt, the longing for reconciliation, in Tammy's expression.

I wiped my hands off on my bar rag and tucked it back into my pocket before reaching for Tammy's printout. "I don't know. I suppose you'll have to work on earning her forgiveness if you want to be on speaking terms again."

I felt my cell vibrate in my front pocket. I hated answering numbers that I didn't recognize but I decided to answer anyway. "Hello?"

A deep, husky male voice responded. "Yes, good afternoon. May I speak to a Miss Jennie Kim, please?"

Reporter? Stalker? Crazed fan? Hacker? My mind ran through the possibilities. "Who's calling?"

"My name is Todd Brandwell. I'm calling from the chief medical examiner's office in New York City and I'm trying to reach a next of kin by the name of Jennie Kim. Your number was listed as a contact."

Dread sank heavy into my gut. "Next of kin? I'm sorry, you say I'm listed?"

"Yes, if you're Jennie Kim."

My throat constricted and panic swept through me. I started mentally listing the current locations of everyone that mattered in order of importance, beginning with Lisa. She was in L.A. she called me when she'd landed and I had just received a naughty text from her not more than twenty minutes ago. Other possible names started to scroll. "I am. What's this about?"

"Miss Kim, I'm sorry to inform you that James Pantelanio passed away last night. If you could write down our office number—"

Suddenly I was able to breathe again, not recognizing the name. "I'm sorry. Who?"

"James Pantelanio," he repeated, enunciating slowly. The Los Angeles address he recited wasn't familiar, either.

"I'm afraid I don't know him. I wish I could help."

"He had another emergency number, which is registered to a Kim's Pub. I've tried to contact that number as well but I am only receiving an answering service."

My heart lodged back up in my throat. This person had both of my numbers listed. The lengths some stalkers go to—"Mr. Pantelanio is a seventy-two-year-old male, approximately five foot, seven inches, one hundred and forty pounds, dark peppered-hair."

None of these descriptions—

"He was a heavy smoker. We believe he was also employed as a photographer, but we cannot seem to locate any employment—"

"Wait. You said 'James,' correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

My heart sank. Could it be? "I think I do know him. Can you please send me a photo?"

Ten minutes later I was looking at the driver's license of the man who had once saved my life, who'd dropped to his knees in the slush and snow, and had given me CPR after I'd been hit by a car. I couldn't stop the tears from pouring, knowing that the sweet Italian celebrity photographer known to all as Jimmy Pop was dead.